


Soup for the Sickly (and Dean Winchester)

by subtextual



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Angel Family, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arcades, Awkward First Times, Awkward Romance, Bottom Dean, Dean is a Little Shit, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff, Homophobic John, Horny Teenagers, Hospitals, Humor, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Light Angst, M/M, Mary Lives, Mild Language, Rich Castiel, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Sick Castiel, Supportive Mary, Teen Castiel, Teen Dean, Teenage Rebellion, Teenagers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Castiel, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-30 01:01:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6401560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtextual/pseuds/subtextual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Dean wanted to do was stay home and watch a Star Trek marathon, not go to school. But Mary knows better and decides to teach her son a lesson. At the hospital he meets Castiel, a cranky teen with a nasty case of the flu. Through their misadventure Cas learns it is okay to ditch school in moderation, and Dean finally gets to watch his Star Trek marathon (with Cas and with soup.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How NOT to Fake Sick

**Author's Note:**

> This is an older work that I decided to dust off, polish up, and finish. It's a shit ton of fluff with awkward teenage smut and a bit of angst. Dean is very much so Dean and Castiel is very much so Cas- they have just been aged down and shoved into high school. All human with no monsters to be found. Enjoy! <3

  **SOUP FOR THE SICKLY (AND DEAN WINCHESTER)**

* * *

 

Kicking back in his bed Dean inhaled the scent of pine and day old Febreze around him. His room itself smelt like pizza crust which was easily detectable if he breathed in deep enough. This in itself was important. His nostrils were very much so clear. It was a damn shame too considering the Star Trek marathon playing today — a Monday.

For practice Dean coughed experimentally. Once, twice, three times. Eventually he got his very much so healthy lungs to sound more like hacking. “Mom!” He called out, attempting to make his throat sound raspy. “Mom, I can't go to school today. 'M sick.”

And for all his theatrics Mary Winchester never even heard him. At the moment she was listening to her twelve year old son explain all about the sixth amendment in the 1960s. She folded laundry from the wicker bench in their dining room. Placing each stack of color, not color, whites, and blacks in respective piles. A throw blanket was draped on top, bright yellow sunflowers lighting up the room.

“So get this mom,” Sam continued, eyes lit with childish enthusiasm. “We get to do an actual case in English, like a mock up of that one scene in _To Kill a Mockingbird_.” Voice hushed yet the awe held all the more audible.

Mary nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “I'm sure you will enjoy that,” she replied warmly.

During this conversation Dean had been continuing to scream his lungs out. Well, at least his voice sounded raspy now. It became apparent that his mom wasn't coming out anytime soon. He had to sell this. Dean grabbed his thick, plaid blanket from his bed and wrapped it around his shoulders. Reaching for a tissue from the box on his nightstand, he blew his nose a few times. Tissue rubbed harshly against the skin. He hoped that by this point it appeared red and irritated.

Shuffling out of his room Dean continued to cough at a semi-random pattern as he approached his mom. And yeah, lying was bad. He knew that. But holy shit did he want to watch Captain Kirk and Spock in their finest. “Mom,” he croaked out, “I'm sick.”

One look at her son and Mary knew. She didn't mention that, instead standing from the bench to approach Dean. “So you are,” she cooed. Brows knitting together she pressed a palm against the teen's forehead. “And I suppose you want to stay home?” Hands dropped to her hips. A weary sigh escaped.

Sam looked over at his brother. He seemed fine, probably had some test he hadn't studied for. “You’re not sick!” He taunted with his head had to tilt back just a little to reach Dean's eyes. “You are just faking it, jerk,” the twelve year old accused. Hazel gaze searched for any real sign of fatigue.

“Shut up. Bitch.” Frustration rattled in Dean's brain. If Sammy was gonna rat him out he'd already been done for. “We don't even have a test today,” he promised, guessing his little brother's thoughts. “ 'M just sick,” he coughed out.

In all honesty Mary found her boys amusing. Even if one of them was lying to her, and they both had used foul language. It was fairly typical in the Winchester household. Of course if they truly meant to insult the other she would have to give another lecture. “You know, baby,” she began kindly. Her hands raked through her older son's hair much to his protest. “I don't mind if you want to take a 'sick' day every once in awhile.” Dean did have the grades to.

Laundry crumbled to the floor as Dean sat down on the bench. Now it seemed a matter of principle more then anything. He could pick locks like a pro, or get out of hand cuffs as if they were nothin', but he couldn't even lie to his mom? Granted he loved his mom a whole lot. The point remained that he was a teenager, damn it. This should come easy. Ignoring the pile of clothes knocked down he huffed, “Mom! I really am sick okay?” Dragging out the okay to show that yeah, he really was sick.

Mary's eyes flashed. She did not understand why her son seemed so insistent on being 'sick.' Of course the entire aspect of lying was aggravating in itself. Her mouth quirked as she thought of an idea. “I believe you, you are most certainly not well enough to go to school.”

Next to her Sam appeared from where he had been searching for breakfast in the kitchen. Ever the health nut the twelve year old stood in the entry way munching on a granola bar. “But mooooom,” he whined, mouth full of oats. “Dean isn't sick, you can tell!” He jerked his arm with food in hand to point at his smug brother.

Turning to face her younger son Mary winked. In return Sam's annoyed expression melted. 'Ohhh,' was clear on his features without being audible. Dean looked between the two confused.

“Am I missing somethin' here?” The teen asked, his voice still consistently rough.

Both mother and son were silent. Sam grabbed his backpack crammed full of books off the counter slipping each strap on. Afterwords he fiddled with the straps. “Bus is gonna be here soon,” he told his mom. That was all the dismissal he needed to head for the door. “Later jerk!”

Dean moved after his brother and the pace was one that matched any sick person. Blocking the doorway with a smirk, he ruffled Sam's hair.

“Let me through Dean,” he said with exasperation. Floppy brown hair and a scrawny body did nothing to throw off the leveled death glare Sam gave.

Mary looked on fondly at her boys, amused at their antics. She crossed her arms as she watched the two.

“Or what shortie,” Dean challenged. One jean clad leg reached up kicking his shin. Howling, Dean was caught off guard as he grabbed his leg. The little shit darted in front of him before running off to the bus stop. “Damn it Sammy!” He called after him.

Big watering green eyes looked up at Mary. “Aren't you going to stop him?” Her son whined. Mary sighed heavily in a what-can-you-do sort of manner. “You know he is sensitive about his height,” she supplied.

Snorting Dean rubbed at his leg. “Yeah, he looked real sensitive while kicking my shin off.” In all honesty it had hardly hurt, and he wasn't one to complain about pain anyway. But getting his little brat of a brother in trouble had perks. Annoyingly enough though Sammy never even got a warning.

Blue wrinkles were smoothed down. Continuing to adjust her police uniform Mary regarded her son. “Well I suppose next time you won't make fun of your brother,” she said, thin pink lips twitching in amusement. She searched her pockets for the keys to the Impala.

Shutting the door behind him Dean went over to the kitchen cabinets to rummage around for something to eat. Preferably pie. “You going to work soon mom?” He yelled over his shoulder. Maybe five minutes later, he was impatient like that, he decided on a bag of Doritos for breakfast.

“I am,” Mary answered, walking over to the kitchen to join him. “And so are you.”

Nose scrunching up he dragged out a chair and sat down. His blanket laid in a heap underneath the dinner table. “You want me to go to work with you?” He asked, voice confused. Orange powder from the Doritos sat on Dean's lips. He shoved another chip in his mouth. “Thought I gotta stay home...” Because yeah, this totally sounded like an evil mom-ploy to get him to school.

Blonde curls fell as Mary shook her head. “I never said you get to stay home, Dean. I said you don't have to go to school,” she explained smartly. “I am taking you to a hospital since you are sick.”

The clarification made his shoulders droop. “Oh.” Dean's mouth almost dropped open in shock, but he managed to hide his reaction with another handful of chips. So much for Star Trek.

* * *

Now in the passenger seat of Baby, Dean crossed his arms over his chest petulantly. “I don't need to go to a freakin' hospital,” he grumbled. The leather of the seats hot against his skin. A constant reminder that they were on the brink of summer.

Music blasted from the speakers. Loud and clear _The Beatles_ played as they drove down the road. “So you are not sick then?” Mary questioned with one delicately raised eyebrow.

Immediately Dean backtracked. Chuckling nervously he defended himself. “Nah, no, nope, no way.” One hand rubbed the back of his neck. “I uh, I mean yeah I am sick— just not sick enough to go to a hospital...” He trailed off dumbly.

“Then you are well enough for school,” His mom declared, her voice triumphant. And well, now that they were this far he couldn't just give up. Even if it meant sitting his ass with a bunch of germ-infested people. Point one for Mary Winchester. Dean deflated.

Trees surrounded his vision as he looked out the window. Rolling hills of grass cut like the type of manicured lawn seen in magazines. They were a college town so the upkeep made sense. Home to both KU and this other place he didn't really care for that seemed more like a huge prep school then anything.

The summer left everything hot. Sticky sweat that poured down his back and clung to his dark gray shirt. “Can you crank up the AC, mom?” Dean complained, dramatically tugging on the fabric to his shirt.

“It's only about eighty-six,” Mary replied with a small smile. She turned up the AC regardless. Then thought for a moment. “It's a good thing your father is a mechanic,” she told, tapping slim fingers against the wheel. “If he hadn't we would just have had to rely on the windows,” she mused.

Yeah Dean knew what his mom meant. His dad could be awesome sometimes. He was kind of like a celebrity in that way. Far away he seemed like this cool dude anyone would want to know until it became clear he was a total douche. Not that he'd ever tell his mom that. “Installing air conditioning isn't that hard,” Dean snorted. Crap, he hadn't wanted to come off so snarky. That usually was Sammy's gig.

Mary released a breath heavy and old. The tired gloom clouding green-blue iris spoke volumes. “Honey,” she began. Voice patient and coated in kindness she said, “John does try.”

Try. Dean freakin' hated that word. Whatever 'try' meant, it sure as hell wasn't good enough. Younger he would have been happy with the word try, he had been a good little soldier. Yet now he saw the distress lined in his mom's face. He heard the nightly arguments.

Smiling painfully Dean replied, “I know, mom.”

Reminded of a little boy who hugged her tight made Mary's eyes light with happiness. She thought of the pie she baked that day, the crumbled apples and fresh cinnamon drifting through their house. And then her baby assuring her that _'It's okay mom. Dad still loves you. I love you, too. I'll never leave you.'_

She turned down the street heading down Sundale Avenue that lead to the hospital. “You are still my little angel, you know that?”

Dean looked mortified. “Mooooom,” he groaned, cheeks pinkening. “No chick flick moments.”

Making a silent move of zipping her lips and throwing away the key, Mary looked over at her son. “It'll be our little secret,” she promised.

Green eyes shifted to the window once more. “Yeah, okay,” Dean mumbled. He noticed a sign proudly stating Lawrence General Hospital in the distance. In frustration he threw his head back. “Do I have to go?” And that wasn't whining, Dean Winchester didn't whine.

Mary hummed along to _Hey Jude_ as she pulled the Impala into the parking lot. “Well, you are sick.”

Son of a bitch. He was in for it now. Dean could only hope the hospital was full of hot nurses and cute patients.

* * *

 


	2. Of Bees and the Pizza Man

  **SOUP FOR THE SICKLY (AND DEAN WINCHESTER)**

* * *

 

 

 

Piles of blankets sat on top of the teen’s bed. Nuzzled under them comfortably he curled up into a tighter ball. Peaking out from atop the blankets was the slightest hint of messy, rumpled dark brown strands. The atmosphere serene as a bird fluttered down to the slumbering boy’s open window. It chirped happily. Sunlight drifted into the room; a pale orange hue hugged the walls. Everything oh so peaceful….

“CASSIE! GET THE HELL UP RIGHT NOW. WHAT ARE YOU? SOME KINDA DISNEY PRINCESS? YOU ARE SO FUCKIN’ LATE AND I JUST REALIZED YOU WERE STILL AT HOME SO SHIT BABY BRO YOU NEED TO MOVE!”

And that was Gabriel. Ever the pleasant morning persona. Castiel squinted at the bright light shining in his eyes and of more import his obnoxious brother screeching his head off. “What?” He grumbled, voice rough. More then rough. His voice felt like sand paper.

Gabriel hardly noticed. Instead he was busy yanking off blankets and hauling his brother’s grumpy ass outta bed. “Dude! You are late. L-A-T-E. I’m sure that goes against your perfect shiny attendance,” he ranted.

Oh. School. How could he ever forget that? Castiel’s eyes grew wide. “I- I’m late?” His breath caught in his throat. His heart hammered.

“Yeah that’s what I said the first time,” Gabriel exclaimed. Hands threw up in the air. “And you look like shit. Those bags under your eyes musta had an orgy!”

Crude language aside Castiel knew that his older brother must be telling the truth. He attempted to answer instead hacking into his arm. His entire throat swelled up. The taste of flemsy green mucus stuck to his mouth.

Being sick was an atrocity. Castiel had school, he didn’t have time for disease. “I’ll have father write me a note to excuse my late attendance,” he croaked out.

One eyebrow cocked in the air. “You are still thinking of going to school?” Gabriel asked incredulously. “Pestilence whacked you with a damn stick,” he told with the slightest hint of brotherly concern.

Ah the horseman. Eyes heavily lidded, Castiel nodded slowly. Almost every movement left him dazed. “Perhaps the end is here,” he commented dryly, his tongue thick in his mouth. Inside his head rattled while his entire body throbbed. Any common flu paled into comparison of how truly awful he felt.

Gabriel whistled lowly. “Well, either way he sure did a number on ‘yah.” His brow crinkled in thought. “Though Mike and Lucy’s Sunday dinner shouldn’t be coming up for another month or so.” Of course he didn’t actually mean that the twins would bring the apocalypse. They were just a bag of dicks who fought constantly. Even grown ups now who had their own family and kids his older brothers couldn’t stop their pissing contest.

Laughter soon turned into a fit of coughing. Castiel knew all too well what he was talking about. “Gabriel,” he groaned. “I have to go to school still,” his words gargled from the bacteria attacking his lungs. Lawrence’s only private school prided itself on being firm and rigorous. If he missed so much as one day he knew the consequences would damage his flawless record.

“Can’t you just be sick Cassie?” Gabriel questioned attached by a long sigh. “I bet if you even attempted to get outta bed you’d fall right over,” he guessed.

The words bristled Castiel’s pride. Eyes set in determination he attempted to move from his slumped over position. It yielded embarrassing results. _Slam._  Flopping down off his bed with a loud thunk, he scrambled to get up.  

Hysterical cackling sounded. Clutching his stomach, Gabriel nearly doubled over. “Ha! You fell. See? I told you,” he snickered. The resolve that crossed Cassie’s expression reminded him of when he used to be all little and first tried learning how to walk.  

“Just help me up,” the teenager grunted. Residing himself to needing help was hard enough. Castiel could do without the taunting. He thrust a hand in the air, and then when Gabriel did not move to his aid he shook it. Irritation clear across his face though partially smushed by the wooden floor he laid on.

Hesitantly, Gabriel lingered next to his baby brother. “I don’t wanna touch your clammy hand, Rudolph!” He protested. “Next week are finals in Naomi’s English comp class. Can’t miss that,” he attempted to explain. Though after a few more seconds of Cassie struggling to get up he gave in. “Fine, fine. You owe me all the Peanut M & M’s in the world if I catch this,” Gabriel threatened while pulling his brother to his feet.

Castiel stumbled in his fight to remain balanced. He shot out a hand to grip at the bed’s railing. “I despise this,” he stated, his every word said through a clogged up nose. Sniffling, he reached for a tissue from his bookshelf and blew loudly.

Pity sunk in Gabriel’s features. A slight frown tugged at his mouth. “I’m gonna make you some of my magical get-better soup,” he decided. Scanning the room, he moved over and tossed a remote control on the bed. “You relax and watch some TV, okay kiddo?”

“I’m not a child, Gabriel,” Castiel insisted, sitting down on his bed carefully. Leaning back his movements were tedious as his head finally touched soft feathers. Gabriel waved away his words. His older brother leaving his room much quieter then he came.

Television wasn’t a source of entertainment that Castiel often used. He preferred books or nature. Though occasionally he found something of interest so he turned on the flat screen television mounted to the wall.

“ _Dr. Sexy, it’s a travesty! Patient Doe Jane has woken up and she has lost her memory.”_

Click.

“ _And now, it’s time for your favorite Japanese game show… NUTCRACKER!”_

Click. Castiel rolled his eyes annoyed at how terrible TV could be.

_Erotic music sounded followed by a woman’s delighted squeals._

Blinking in confusion he continued to watch the screen.

_A doorbell rang. Running up to the door, a busty woman with dirty blonde hair opened the door. Every move she made appeared seductive, green eyes hazy with lust. “Come in,” she purred._

Head tilting slightly Castiel pushed himself up in bed. Whatever this was it had caught his interest.

_The door opened revealing a well fit man holding a pizza box in one hand. “Did somebody order pizza?” A baritone voice growled out. Giggles answered the man. The woman looked up coyly through thick eyelashes._

“ _I did,” she moaned out, moving to let the man inside. “The little boy I’m baby sitting is asleep so we can have all kinds of fun…”_

“ _Fun? I think you need to be punished,” he stated roughly. His blue eyes twinkled with mischief._

_The babysitter fanned herself perfectly manicured nails on display. “Ooooh,” she told heatedly._

“Are they in love?” Castiel questioned out loud. He squinted at the screen as the couple began to make out.

_Flushed cheeks showed off the freckles on the babysitter’s face. Pink, pouty lips dropped open in shock as the man set her across his lap._

By now the teenager realized he was watching porn. He’d never been one to be bothered easily. Though Castiel could feel the strain against his pajama pants. It was an odd show of affection from the pizza man, but perhaps the babysitter had done something wrong. Instead of continuing to watch the woman get her rear slapped he changed the channel. Another time. Right now he had his brother that could come in the room at any second, and Gabriel would never let him down if he was caught palming his cock.

“ _'If bees were to disappear from the globe, mankind would only have four years left to live.’ “_

Castiel’s face brightened. A documentary on bees! His quick gasp caused him to cough hard once more aware of his flu. Watching the film, he was enamored by the vivid look at a bee pollinating flowers. At least this could get his mind off the fact he was half hard.

“ _Here we see the fellow bee pollinating. However if given a closer look, it is clear to see the sprays of deadly jets. White foam among the almond blooms; the pesticide works it’s toxic among our poor, winged friend.”_

Unabashed horror spread across his face. Gripping his navy blue comforter tightly, he watched the film with a heavy heart. Of course Castiel had been aware that bees were farmed out on plantations like slaves. Though he never researched the matter in depth.

_An extreme close up follows. The bee is struggling for it’s life, wings fluttering furiously. Then, it falls off the flower and tumbles to it’s death._

Making the sign of a cross over his heart, Castiel sends a silent, brief prayer for the fallen insect. He loved bees, loved all of God’s creatures. Such a horrible death was always painful to see. Deep in his thoughts he did not even see Gabriel barrel into the room. At least his boner was gone.

“Cassie,” Gabriel called in a sing song tone. “I brought soup,” he declared cheerfully, hands holding a bowl of steaming vegetable broth.

At that Castiel sighed in relief. He had been expecting a bowl of gummy worms swimming in Coca Cola loaded to the brim with sprinkles and chocolate chips. “Thank you, Gabriel this looks — delicious,” he told, pausing midway to grab another tissue.

Plopping down on the bed Gabriel sat beside his baby brother. The soup jumped up as he did so. “No problemo,” he said with a grin. He glanced over at the TV noticing something on bees. “What are we watchin’?” Gabriel asked, handing the bowl to Cassie after he finished blowing out more globby mucus.

Blue eyes blinked blearily. Underneath Castiel had puffy red lines followed by heavy purple circles. “I’m not sure what the name is called,” he began, eating a spoonful of noodles and sliced carrots. “Though the documentary itself is rather intriguing. It describes the lifestyle of bees trapped in plantations. Over time they are being genetically modified through pesticide into these horrid herbicide-infused mono cultures. Hundreds of thousands of bees are dying and soon enough they will disappear completely until mankind dies along with them.”

Oh. Gabriel tried to think of something positive to say, coming up blank. He tried for a few more seconds. Sometimes Cassie could be a real downer. “That sounds…” Depressing. “Fun,” he replied after a few more moments of silence.

Sharp eyes lit with the intensity of thunder storms turned towards him. “It is not 'fun’!” The kid seethed. Apparently he could forget how shitty he felt long enough to yell at him about the importance of bees. “Bees are noble creatures that do not deserve the objectivity they are given. They are slaves to us, Gabriel. Slaves! They are not given the free will that they deserve and are instead trapped because of the greed of corporate marketing,” Cassie lectured, voice edged with fury.

Really how did one respond to that? Gabriel’s brown-gold eyes darted across the room. “Uh…” He dug into his pockets for some kind of candy to chew on. A few more minutes of procrastination followed. The entire time Cassie glowering at him like he was some sadistic Pagan god. “They do sting like a bitch,” he offered.

Jaw locked Castiel shook his head slowly at his ignorant brother. His eyes narrowed. “Don’t talk to me,” he sniffed. Turning away from his brother, he angrily sipped at the broth.

“…Okay.” Gabriel hedged inching away from the kid. Jeez did Cassie have a thing for bees.

Ten minutes of quiet nothing followed. The only sounds being the rustle of Gabriel’s candy wrapper and Castiel eating soup.

Suddenly hacking filled the room. Slimy phlegm crawled up his throat. Castiel drew his arm forward as he practically retched up a lung. Loose and wet the cough sounded with each violent expulsion of air.

“Shit kiddo.” Gabriel leaned towards his baby brother. “I’m gonna go get you some cold meds and a thermometer to check your temperature,” he said, words laced with worry. Standing up from the bed, Gabriel went to scour the bathroom cabinet.

Cold sweat glistened from Castiel’s forehead. He tugged his comforters towards him, the plush fabrics tucked neatly underneath his chin. Waves of heat coursed through his blood. Castiel knew with certainty that he had a fever. He continued to watch the documentary enjoying the flashback to the Swiss Alps, a moment of harmony for the bees from earlier on.

In the other room Gabriel searched through their medicine cabinet. He doesn’t really know what bottle to give the kid so he just grabbed a bunch. His arms bulged with five to seven different medicines, he’s not sure on an exact number, along with a thermometer.  “Here’s what I got,” he proclaimed to Cassie walking back into the room. He dumped the various medicines on his bed. “But before you pop any of these you need to use this,” he grabbed the thermometer from the pile.

Castiel groaned. “This is ridiculous,” he complained. “I know I have a fever already.”

“But you don’t know how bad it is,” Gabriel argued. “Now check your damn temperature before I do,” he threatens, his big brother instincts rising.

With an exaggerated sigh and a roll of his eyes the teen takes the thermometer and sticks it below his tongue. “Happy?” Castiel slurred, the attitude he aimed towards his brother ruined by the thermostat lodged in his mouth.

Gesturing with a finger to his lips, Gabriel told Cassie to shut up. “If you move you’re just gonna have to do it over again,” he explained. Beeping from the thermometer a couple of minutes later told him it was done.

Weakly Castiel propped up in his bed before handing over the thermostat. “103.5,” he grumbled out not particularly nervous at the high fever.

On the other hand, Gabriel’s eyes bulged out of his sockets. “You kiddin’ me Cassie?” He questioned gaping. “We need to get your ass hooked up with some antibiotics. That’s a high fever kiddo,” he said in concern. His voice was stern. “Get up. I gotta take you to the hospital,” he ordered in panic.

Reluctantly the teen moved from the bed, moans of protest escaping from his lips the entire time. Going to the hospital sounded awful right now. Castiel just wanted to stay home watching the bee documentary. When he finally managed to stand his bones ached and his joints felt like they weren’t even connected.

“There you go!” Gabriel cheered, holding one hand out to help his baby brother balance. “Let the power of Jesus make you walk again,” he pronounced loudly, as if he was a preacher at their local church giving a sermon.

“Be quiet Gabriel,” Castiel grouched. “I am not in the mood to listen to you mock our pastor.” He stumbled from the bed not bothering to take his older brother’s hand. He did not need help… he was fine.

Holding his hands up in defense he moved away from Cassie. “Okay, okay,” he gave in after a moment. “You got this. No need for your big bro Gabe. While you spend all of creation to walk to the front door I'mma go get some more soup for the road,” Gabriel told him before he pranced off to the kitchen. 

With a huff at Gabriel’s excessive flare Castiel began the long trek to his doorway. He made it all of five inches before crashing to the floor. This could take awhile. The thought was bitter, trickling through his mind like poison.

-

Gabriel drummed on the side door of Cassie’s Lincoln Continental. He appeared bored, eyes lingering on the window that clearly displayed the fact they were still in the driveway. “Keys?” He asked with a cock of one eyebrow.

Shifting uncomfortably in the passenger seat, Castiel gripped his set of keys like it was a tablet from God himself. “No,” he answered quickly. He loved his car. There was no way he would let Gabriel of all people drive it.

Brown-gold eyes bore down on his baby brother. “Come on,” Gabriel cried, eyebrows lurched in disbelief. “You really think I’ll mess this car up?” He snorted. “It has hydraulics! I can’t mess up your pimp mobile any more then it already is,” he attempted to convince Cassie.

"Do not call it that,” snapped Castiel. Sure the car had a few… amenities that other cars did not, but he loved it all the same. Clenching the keys tighter his knuckles began to turn white.

For a moment Gabriel simply thought about some other way to convince Cassie. They had to get to the hospital and Anna had taken his flashy Maserati for her driver’s permit test. Often he questioned his own logic considering who let a fifteen year old drive a near seventy thousand dollar car? Eh, he could always buy another one if it crashed. Finally he pointed out, “you can’t drive.” Which was the truth.

Heaving a sigh Castiel looked down at his keys. If Gabriel destroyed his car just as he had done many others he knew their father Chuck would simply attempt to buy him a new one. But Castiel did not like the free money, he liked earning everything through hard work. From fifteen to sixteen he had worked at the Gas n’ Sip across town stocking the back room to save up for his car. “Be careful,” he warned, blue eyes blazing with the promise of something dangerous if his brother did anything.

“I’ll treat your daughter well Mr. Stick Up the Ass,” snarked Gabriel with a toothy grin. He rubbed his hands together, a devious glint in his eyes. Then he took the keys from a reluctant Cassie and turned the key into the ignition. Rumbling to life, the car’s suspensions began to shift in height. Gabriel howled with glee. “Hey Cassie?”

Castiel looked over towards his brother in exasperation. “What?” He asked attempting not to grind his teeth together.

“So are you too sexy for your low rider?” Gabriel quipped as he turned down the street.

Turning around ready to throttle his brother, the sudden movement caused Castiel to have a fit of coughing. “Just drive,” he managed to get out, “assbutt.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked feel free to leave kudos or comments! You can also hit up my tumblr at gankyourdarlings. :)
> 
> Expect updates weekly or sometime around there. Maybe a little early, maybe late.  
> Next chapter Dean and Cas will meet!

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked feel free to leave kudos or comments! You can also hit up my tumblr at gankyourdarlings. :) 
> 
> Expect updates weekly or sometime around there. Maybe a little early, maybe late.  
> Next chapter to be in Cas' POV.


End file.
